Takomi woke up before the alarm again, which was annoying because it meant he couldn't blame anything for being tired. One of his socks had twisted halfway off during the night, and the room felt warmer than it should have been.
He sat up slowly, scratching the back of his neck.
In the faint reflection of the window, his messy dark hair stuck out in uneven angles, and his eyes—sharp, a little too aware—already looked like they'd made up their mind about the day.
"…Yeah. Not fixing that," he muttered.
A knock came.
"Taku? You up or pretending again?"
"I'm up," he said. "Unfortunately."
The door opened.
Allina stepped in—small, light on her feet, with a round face that still held a bit of childish softness. But her eyes were sharp, watching everything like she trusted nothing completely.
"You always say that like it's new."
"It feels new every day."
She crossed her arms. "…You were talking again."
Takomi paused, then grabbed his shirt. "Was I?"
"Yeah. Like someone was answering you."
"…Probably dreaming."
"You don't answer dreams."
"…Trying something new."
She stared at him for a second, then sighed. "Come eat."
—
The chair wobbled the moment Takomi sat down.
"…This thing again."
"Then sit properly," Allina said, placing food in front of him.
He adjusted his weight, testing the balance like it might betray him.
"…If I fall, I'm blaming you."
"You always blame me."
"Because it's usually your fault."
She ignored that.
He took a bite.
"…It's good."
"You hesitated."
"I was thinking."
"About how to lie?"
"…About how to survive this conversation."
She kicked his leg lightly. The chair shifted.
"Hey—seriously."
"…Eat."
They went quiet for a bit.
Then—
"…Taku."
"Hm?"
"You weren't home last night."
He didn't look up. "I was."
"…No."
He chewed slowly.
"I checked."
"…You probably checked wrong."
"There are two rooms."
"…Then both were wrong."
She didn't smile.
"…And money just shows up," she said. "Food, fees… everything's fine but… how?"
Takomi tapped the table lightly with his finger.
"…Why does it matter?"
"Because it doesn't make sense."
"A lot of things don't."
"That's not an answer."
He leaned back slightly, careful with the chair.
"Allina… some things are just handled."
"By who?"
"…By me."
"That's exactly the problem."
He finally looked at her.
"…You don't need to know everything."
"I didn't ask for everything."
"Then don't ask this."
Silence.
"…You're not home some nights," she said again. "And sometimes your hands—"
"Allina."
She stopped.
"…Eat your food."
"…You're acting weird."
"I'm always weird."
"…Not like this."
He stood up, grabbing his bag.
"Lock the door."
"You always say that."
"Because you forget."
"I don't—"
The door closed before she finished.
—
Outside, the air felt cooler.
Takomi shoved his hands into his pockets and immediately felt his finger slip through a tear in the lining.
"…Of course."
"TAAAKU!"
He didn't turn.
"…If I keep walking—"
"Not working."
Alex caught up, slightly out of breath. His brown hair looked like he'd run most of the way and decided that counted as getting ready. He flashed a grin—the kind that made it hard to stay annoyed at him for long.
"You walk like someone's chasing you."
"…Maybe someone is."
"That's not comforting."
They walked side by side.
"You look dead," Alex added.
"I feel alive. Unfortunately."
"Doing what all night?"
"Existing."
"Suspicious."
Takomi smirked slightly. "…What kind?"
Alex blinked. "I didn't mean it like that."
"You should be clearer."
"…You're weird."
"You noticed?"
Alex shook his head, then leaned in.
"Anyway—new transfer student."
"Again?"
"This time it's different."
"She's a girl. She's beautiful. She's mysterious."
"…You ruin everything."
"You're predictable."
"…Still. Imagine she sits next to you."
"…My luck isn't that bad."
"Or that good."
"…Same thing."
—
Takomi dropped into his seat, noticing the loose window latch immediately.
click… click…
"…Annoying."
"You love this seat," Alex said.
"It tries to be quiet."
"It fails."
The teacher walked in.
"We have a new transfer student."
Takomi barely looked up.
"Come in."
Footsteps.
He glanced.
And paused.
She didn't look like she belonged there. Her long silver-white hair caught the light in a way that made the room feel duller around her, and her stillness didn't look practiced—it looked natural, like movement was the unusual thing for her.
"My name is Vallen."
Her voice was calm.
"I transferred recently."
A student asked something. The teacher answered. People laughed.
Takomi didn't care.
"Take your seat."
She walked down the aisle.
Steady.
Not nervous.
Then stopped beside him.
"…Is this seat taken?"
"No."
"…Good."
She sat down.
And her leg started moving—small, constant, like a habit she didn't notice.
Takomi glanced down, then back up.
"…You always do that?"
"…Do what?"
He nodded slightly.
She looked down briefly. "…Oh."
It didn't stop.
"…Habit."
"…Looks like you're nervous."
"…Or bored."
"…Already?"
"…Should I not be?"
"...Ooo …Fair."
A pause.
click… click…
"…This place is noisy," she said.
"You get used to it."
"…Or not."
"…Yeah."
She shifted slightly. Her arm brushed his.
"…You always sit here?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"…You don't mind sharing?"
"…Depends."
"On?"
"…Who I'm sharing with."
She looked at him properly this time.
"…And?"
Takomi looked away first.
"…Still deciding."
A small pause.
"…Try not to distract me," he added.
"…I'm not doing anything."
"…Exactly."
She almost smiled.
—
The bell rang.
Takomi stood, adjusting his sleeve, noticing a loose thread and pulling at it slightly before stopping.
"…Tch."
"Are you free? Can we walk home together?" Vallen said.
He paused, then nodded.
"Yeah."
Nothing dramatic.
Just a normal day for him—
or at least, that's what it should have been.
His phone vibrated.
Takomi glanced at the screen for a second… then answered.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
Then a voice on the other end—calm, cold.
"Come to the old building before sunset. We have something to discuss."
Takomi's expression didn't change.
"…What kind of something?"
"The mission tonight."
Silence.
Then the voice added, quieter—
"Don't forget what he did to your parents."
Takomi's grip on the phone tightened.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—
"…He didn't just hurt them."
His voice dropped, sharp with restrained anger.
"He killed them."
The call ended.
Takomi stood there, unmoving.
For a second, he glanced at his hand.
There was a faint stain—
like something that never completely washed off.
He pulled his sleeve down.
He slid the phone back into his pocket.
The loose thread on his sleeve brushed against his fingers again.
This time, he didn't pull it.